


presage

by brokenEisenglas



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcoholism mention, Best Friends, Crossover Prequel, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Emotional Rollercoaster, Fic Prequel, Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, OCD subtleties, OOC character traits, Pining, Pre-Slash, Some angst, Steve POV, Supportive Steve Rogers, Tired Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, elements of EMH, plot heavy, plot is an unfortunate soul, post-Season 1, power cosmic, season 2 divergent, slow, steve rogers cares, these boys don’t know what to do with themselves, third-person limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:44:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenEisenglas/pseuds/brokenEisenglas
Summary: After battling the Cosmic Skull with his betrayed Cabal, the Avengers have been graced with some much needed and rarely had downtime. While the others rest and relax (or in Widow’s case, continue to work with SHIELD), Tony has asked for a moment to speak with Steve. Something bigger is coming, and time is not a luxury he has.





	presage

**Author's Note:**

> Definition of presage: be a sign or warning of something bad about to happen
> 
> Hello, readers! I've been absolutely looking forward to introducing this project. Over the last year and a half, I've been throwing around ideas for a crossover AU between the Avengers Assemble team and the post-Infinity War MCU bunch. This first work will be the prelude to the larger fic to come.
> 
> Things to note about this work:
> 
> PLOT HEAVY. This is setting a lot of things up. Things I may possibly lose control over. I'm still learning! (chuckles) Also,
> 
> 1\. Post-AA Season 1 and before the events of Season 2. So, some spoilers mentioned.
> 
> 2\. This is heavily focused on Steve and Tony.
> 
> 3\. OOC!!!!!!!!!! OOC!!!! Why, B.e., have you done this? Well... I don't like ignoring what works happened around this show. I've been doing a lot of "research" for this fic in regards to both continuities, and I grabbed elements from EMH (Earth's Mightiest Heroes cartoon), the Ultimate Spiderman series, as well as bled in some elements of the character traits not so often exhibited in the Avengers Assemble canon.  
> So, Steve and Tony are a bit less like their on-screen selves. This is post-The Final Showdown. Tired, angsty, worrying (b)romance. Don't worry, they'll be a little less edgy in the next bit, but, here and now? The boys have some weights they're carrying.
> 
> 4\. Pre-Crossover event. This is more a set-up for the fic to follow.
> 
> So, honestly... I hope you like it. Leave comments, suggestions, criticisms and critiques in the comments below. General rule of thumb: An encouraging critiquing statement for every two criticisms. We can't build people up if all we do is tear them down.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy! :D

He’s lifting the hydraulic weights in the big training room when he hears the personalized text alert. Steve eases the weights down, taking his time as the soft rock instrumental plays. Ever since he’d found out how to change the alerts for the different contacts in his phone, he had worked hard to find songs that ‘fit.’ Personally, he’s partial to instrumental pieces, and the stories the notes play. So, when he hears this one, he smiles. It’s not often that he leaves the phone’s volume high. More often than not, it’s on vibrate in his pocket. He finds the interruptions rude. Well, that, and, if someone recognizes the piece…

Steve’s never found himself to be good at outwardly expressing his feelings. It’s in the little things. Like making breakfast, cleaning-up, and personal alert tones.

Right. Text alert.

The little green light flashes at the top of the phone on the bench across the room. He wipes his sweaty hands on a towel next to his stuff before touching the delicate piece of tech. Nevermind that Tony designed it to withstand normal careless wear and tear; it happened to also be wrapped in a case designed to withstand the grip of an aggravated supersoldier. The memory of the tests they had to run-- _just to make sure, Steve--_ makes him laugh. 

Steve swipes the screen, opening the message.

_I’m outside. Roof patio garden. A few things I need to talk to you about._

His eyebrows draw slightly together.

Since their battle with the Cosmic Skull and subsequent temporary ceasefire with the Cabal, criminal activity has been quiet throughout New York and around the world. It’s been weeks thus far without the terrors wrought by the modern day villain. For Steve and the others, it’s been quite nice, really. Time well spent resting and relaxing, if that’s the prerogative. Certainly, Clint, Thor, Hulk and Sam have taken advantage of the quiet. Steve even noticed that the Widow had come by more recently, likely spending some much needed time with Clint.

But, Tony. It’s as though the sudden break in the flood of the usual villains of the week actually ended up giving him _more_ work to do. He’s been gone or cooped-up more often than not. Steve knows that what Tony does in his spare time isn’t necessarily his business, but he _has_ missed more than a few team practices, and he hasn’t sparred in even longer. He’s even missed the last two team meetings… 

Steve disinfects the equipment he used before he goes to shower and change.

Maybe he should also thank Tony for the new upgrades on the weight calibrators. Even in amongst his busy schedule he had found time to upgrade the equipment, particularly those that Steve uses.

 _Yeah_ , Steve thinks. _We need to talk_.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Steve finds Tony twenty minutes later, he’s sitting at one of the round mosaic tables on the Penthouse’s patio garden. Tony is slightly hunched, forehead resting on his fist as he leans onto the tabletop. There’s a thick manila folder in front of him, and a StarkPad glows as some sort of video plays. The sight wouldn’t usually be too worrying to Steve. Tony often over-clocks his brain when working on projects for the team. An unhealthy habit, Steve knows, but he’d be a hypocrite if he told Tony not to work so hard. 

The drink in Tony’s hand, however, changes everything. It’s been years since Tony last touched a bottle of liquor. In fact, Steve remembers the last time clearly, eidetic memory aside.

_“I think I might have a problem, Steve.”_

That was… after they'd split apart the last time. After all that had happened…

Something is terribly wrong.

“Hey,” he’s sure to use a soft tone, not wanting to startle Tony. “You called.”

Tony pops his head up from where he’s been resting. There’s a big red spot on his forehead from where his hand had pressed. Steve admits to himself that it’s adorable, mundane. Normal.

What isn’t normal is the tired bruising under his eyes. Those are new.

_He’s too young to be suffering those._

“Yeah,” he smiles tiredly. A hand swirls the golden liquid before setting the tumbler down and out of the way of the papers and pad before him. “Had a few things I wanted to talk to you about. Have a seat?” Steve obliges him. 

“Since I won’t be able to come to team meeting tomorrow, and the others are still doing whatever it is they do when not Avengering,” Steve laughs, Tony giggles, “I figured it’d be best if we took a bit to sit down and chat?”

Steve nods in agreement. It’s been awhile since they’ve had time to sit together, time that Steve dearly misses, and Steve knows that if he interrupts the genius’s thoughts now, he is potentially cutting the conversation far shorter than it would have actually been. He would be missing information… He’d be skimping on time with Tony.

He watches Tony’s eyes flit back and forth between tiles in the table, fingers tapping a steadily increasing staccato, _taptaptap taptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptaptap_.

“I’ve got a call-in with a potential investor in Budapest at three tonight,” Tony smiled apologetically. “Until then, I’m free. Well, as free as I can be when I still have to call Pepper beforehand. So, yeah. I’ve got a few hours ‘til then. Um, if, well, if you do?” Tony’s eyes open slightly bigger. “Fuck, um… I didn’t even—I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t even check to see if you were busy apart from, well, the—you know, if you are, I can just—yeah. I, it can wait. I’ll wait. I’ll just plan it in when, you know, both our schedules—“

“Tony.” _taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap_

“I mean, it’s not like it can’t wait. I mean, it shouldn’t. Not really. With how we’ve got a new villain almost every other day, and half the time lately we don’t even get to see each other all at once. And, this data is just… I knew we’d been experiencing a sort of branching out, but, _this_. This is something different. Something bigger. And, --“

“Tony. Stop.” Steve places his hand gently on Tony’s own on the table, halting the bruising tapping. “Please.”

Steve watches as Tony visibly takes a breath, his other hand reaches for his drink and rhythmically tightens and loosens around the tumbler. His heart still beats too quickly, and his breathing is slightly ragged. So, Steve counts his own breaths and tries leading Tony along; his success is questionable, but, with each passing moment, Tony seems to take control of his spiral of anxiety. 

When he finally settles, Steve eases his hand away. “Okay. First… I’m not busy. I’m free all evening, actually. In fact, I was hoping you had a moment.” He has to repress a smile when Tony’s posture pops-up intrigued. He sets his drink aside in his anticipation. “That can wait,” Steve playfully points. “Now, tell me about tomorrow’s meeting?” 

“I have a flight leaving tomorrow at 0530 to the S.I. west coast facility. I’m in charge of the R&D department’s budget and review until we hire someone to replace Gill. They have a few projects I need to check, too, before Pep or I give the green light. A few interviews to do after that. The next few days’ll be a doozy. If I could be in two places at once--” Tony trails off. Steve sees the light bulb in Tony’s head almost literally light-up when he says it. 

“Tony…” He starts. “Don’t even try it.”

Tony shifts; his jaw muscles flex and his breath is short.

“No.”

“But--”

“No. We both know what kind of confusion and security risk LMDs pose,” the soldier cuts him off. Tony rolls his eyes at that. “And, after the skrull invasion, we don’t need people thinking you’ve been replaced by an alien hostile.”

“Yeah, but, Steve. It wouldn’t be an LMD. The public wouldn’t see it! What if I made an A.I.—“

“Tony—“

“—And this A.I. were programmed to think like _me_!”

“Tony, please—“

“And, it would learn and weigh decisions like me!” He spreads his hands, arms out, excited. The universal gesture saying, _look! What do you think?_ And, his smile...

God above, when Tony smiles like that, Steve literally feels his knees go weak. 

That doesn’t change the fact that this is _not_ a good idea. 

“This isn’t a good idea.” In fact, it’s a terrible idea. Too many possibilities. Too much room for something to go wrong. 

Tony slumps back into his chair and huffs. They sit in an awkward silence. Steve can feel Tony’s mind working. It’s like radiation, tingling the skin with prolonged exposure. He knows that Tony is thinking of ways around the argument. Alternative solutions. He’s a progressive, a futurist, a thinker and a doer. Ever changing in an ever-changing world.

A genius, and a good man.

Someone Steve greatly admires.

And, Steve will not let him be the cause of Ultron 2.0, however unintentional it would be.

Tony sighs and raises his eyes back to look at Steve.

“You’re no fun.”

“Only when _you_ want to be,” Steve deadpans back.

Even if Steve hadn’t been looking, he would have been able to hear the click of Tony’s jaw dropping. But Steve _is_ looking and has the pleasure of seeing his friend’s eyebrows flick up, and then Tony is laughing so hard he’s grabbing his ribs.

“You’re impossible.”

Tony’s eyes glitter and his laughter grows louder, and it’s so hard for him to calm down. His laughter is contagious, though, and Steve catches it. By the time they’ve both calmed, they’re leaning towards each other across the table, relaxed and overall content.

Together, they revel in the moment.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Steve finally asks. He hates to break the mood, but he knows he needs to know for Avengers’ purposes. Definitely Avenger reasons.

“At least three days. I’ll be conducting the interviews for the open research lead position while handling the investor meetings from the office there.”

Three days. Maybe more. _We can handle that_ , Steve thinks. It’s only a few days. Besides, the supervillains have seemed quieter as of late, and the S.I. facilities are the next safest place for Tony to be working besides Avengers’ Tower. If trend continues, they won’t have another big mission until after Tony has returned, safe and sound. The risk is low. Besides the Tower, Tony’s facilities are probably the next safest place he could be. He will be fine. At the site. That Tony has to fly to. In a normal plane. Which is easier to ground, to destroy, and--

“The hope is that Pep and I will have a candidate picked by the time I get back here,” he says, derailing Steve’s own paranoid concerns.

Definitely Avenger concerns.

“We’ve been reviewing for weeks now and we like our options. If I can get this done, the next trip won’t be until it’s time for inspections.”

“Where is Pepper?” The question comes out colder than he intends. He likes Pepper, he does. Despite her and Tony’s on-off again relationship, she has been a constant in both Tony’s life and with the Avengers. Always there for questions, and willing to listen and provide help when needed. He _likes_ Pepper.

Tony lightly raps the table with a knuckle then two, thinking.

“She’s currently in Tokyo handling… well, I probably shouldn’t actually talk about that.” He sighs. “She’s in Tokyo dealing with some shit. She’s balancing that and most of her normal duties while I pitch-in where I can.” 

“Of course.” He instinctively wants to ask more. Times, days, workload. Normal things. Things Tony obviously wouldn’t know the answer to yet. So, like a normal person, Steve chooses instead not to ask what he means, instead he puts his foot in it.

“You two together still?”

God _dammit_.

“Nah. New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor once more!” He jokes. “Pep and I decided a while back that something like that wouldn’t work between us. Besides, I think she might be seeing Happy.” When he mentions Happy, he smiles and chuckles. “I’m not supposed to know, with both of them working for me and all that. Well, he works for me. She doesn’t; not really. Huh. Gonna have to get used to that one. But, yeah… I’m happy for them. Hoping it all works out.”

Tony’s relieved, Steve realizes. He knows that she and Tony had a tumultuous time with his being an Avenger. He’d told Steve one of the previous times around that she deserved better. More stability. Someone guaranteed to come home.

_An underground bunker, blue light, Red Skull._

_“Iron man is no more.”_

_“Iron Man!”_ Tony! 

“So, you’ll be gone a few days,” Steve says, shaking himself of the memory. “Have you submitted an itinerary?” 

Tony just looks at Steve. Staring as if asking ‘really?’ Steve knows that it seems excessive. Unnecessary. But, he had just explained why he’s worried, hadn’t he?

“You do know that I ran S.I. for eight years before making Pepper CEO, correct?”

“Yes,” of course he does!

“And, you do know that I pilot a four hundred pound suit of armor on a fairly regular basis?”

“A suit you haven’t been able to put on and train in for almost three weeks now,” he feels necessary to note, because, it _has_ been almost three weeks since Tony has sparred. And, Steve still hasn’t brought up his concerns about the Avengers’ meetings. Has he told Tony ‘thank you’ yet for the equipment, too? Or, brought up how he didn’t need to bribe Steve’s forgiveness with gifts?

 _Did_ Steve tell him why he was worried about the flight?

“The point still stands, Cap. And, I will have one with me. You know that.”

Tension curls beneath in his breast. It twists a knot that Steve can’t release, not on his own, and Tony is still staring at him waiting for a response. 

“Steve?”

“I know.” He bites back. “I just…” His blue eyes look everywhere but at Tony. He wants to grab his hand again, to hold on, but he can’t. “I’m worried about you.”

Tony takes a sip of his drink, face scrunching at the taste, and sets it aside. He fidgets with his hands a moment before stopping to look at Steve.

“I know. I’m sorry.” In the partial light, Tony’s eyes shine. The bruises under his eyes look even darker.

“I shouldn’t be away so much. I know I’ve been letting the team down. If it hasn’t been S.I., it’s been the ‘shop. If it’s not engineering for R&D, then its gear. Or, data. Which, I still need to talk to you about. That’s important. Most important reason we’re sitting here, really. I promise, as soon as all this settles, I’ll get some much needed mat time in. Gotta keep Clint on his toes, you know?” He chuckles, self-deprecating and hollow.

If Tony is hardest on anyone, it’s on himself. There is good self-awareness and criticism, but the way he berates himself surpasses anything that would be considered even remotely healthy.

It breaks Steve’s heart.

“Tony.” He pleads, wanting him to understand. “The most important thing that I can get out of this-- right here, right now-- is knowing that you’re okay.”

The quiet which follows is delicate. Right now, Steve knows that he has inadvertently steered them into murky waters. He had spoken his feelings, not his thoughts. Words he had never intended to speak aloud, for when the word is spoken, it’s made true. Isn’t that what he’d been taught? That from the mouths of men, the words of the heart spew forth? But, not just _what_ the words are. It’s _how_ they’re said.

The panic boils in him, a noose around the neck, tight enough to prevent speech but not so tight as to keep the breath away. 

“Steve,” Tony whispers. Thin, scarred fingers tentatively brush along the back of blond dusted hands. Hands normally so assured hover nervously. “May I… may I touch you?”

 _Yes. Please_.

Smaller calloused hands gently caress his own and the tide of panic begins to recede. Like fresh air to burning lungs, or cool water to thirsting tongue. Literal rejuvenation. That’s how this feels. It’s been so long since anyone has touched him like this, like he too is fallible. Breakable. Falling apart.

“Would you look at me, Steve?”

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d closed his eyes.

When he opens them, it couldn’t be to a better sight. There’s Tony, in rumpled button-down with tie undone, hanging loosely over curled shoulders. Longer strands of wavy raven-black hair droop down over olive skin, guiding his gaze downward to whiskey-caramel eyes glistening in the half-light.

Those aren’t tears. They can’t be. Tony doesn’t, he doesn’t-- He’s just tired, surely.

“There you are.”

“He-” Steve chokes slightly on the mucus pooled at the back of his throat. He coughs, clearing his throat, and smiles sheepishly. “Hey. Sorry. Um…”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Calloused fingers trace lazy patterns on the inside of his smooth wrist. The action soothes Steve’s nerves like meditating or prayer. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but, I’m okay. Bone tired, but okay.” Tony pats the pads of his fingers over the spot he’d just been rubbing, a thin smile tugging at his lips. “Not much longer and things’ll settle down on this end, and I’ll be back for everyone to knock me ass-to-the-mat and more.”

The way Tony says it, Steve knows he’s joking. Trying to make light of the situation. But, it hurts. Years of working together, being friends, has taught Steve many things, and the depths from which Tony’s humor originates…

He doesn’t want him to feel that way.

“Tony, it’s, it’s not like that.”

“It’s okay, Cap. I know.”

The hand on his own pats once then pulls away-- he doesn’t want him to pull away-- and they’re back to business once more.

“Jay will send you a message with my plans once I’ve got them mostly ironed out. I’m not looking for an Afghanistan part II, and I know it makes you all feel better knowing where I’ll be just in case something happens and I’m running late for an assembly,” he winks. “However, if something does go wrong, Rhodey is on back-up. Since Sam didn’t take up the War Machine armor like we’d planned,” he huffs playfully, “I’ve asked Platypus to keep the original in climate control for me. I know he’s practically been shining his shoes daily just for the chance to take it for a spin.”

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s been a while since Rhodes had last visited the Tower. Steve could never imagine those two losing communications with each other, but with the colonel so absent, Steve had honestly forgotten that Rhodes himself is also able to pilot the armor. When had it last been that they’d spoken to each other? He tries to remember, wracking his eidetic memory. It should be easier than it currently is.

“I didn’t know that Colonel Rhodes still had access to the armor,” he hesitates. “I thought it was destroyed when we faced Skull and the Cabal?”

“I… may have upgraded the armor and kept the old model for safekeeping.” Tony twiddles his fingers, fidgeting a bit, a look of near childish guilt on his face.

“Do you think it’s a good idea for us to call in Rhodes? Like you said, he hasn’t suited up in a while.” 

He feels rightfully concerned. Tony is a futurist, sure. He loudly claims science and reason above all else. He’s an engineer, an inventor, and a certified genius. He would have the outside world believe he’s more machine than man, wrapped in a case of armor. Steve would like to believe that he, and the other Avengers, know better. Tony says he operates on methodology alone, but experience shows that his judgement, when concerning those he dearly cares for, can be askew.

“I’d prefer to have him train a bit before throwing him to the wolves.”

“Oh, he’ll get some training in.” The devious smile Tony flashes him doesn’t soothe his concern. “ I’m hoping he and Sam hit it off, actually.” Tony picks up the StarkPad and opens a video. It plays a short message from Rhodes about preparing to leave base, gathering his things, and ‘coming to crash the pad, Tones? No putting me on the couch this time, you blanket squirrel. I get the bed, for real. Damn goose bags are worse than rocks here…’ “He’ll be here tomorrow evening. Reporting for duty, Sir,” he chuckles.

Steve ignores the spike of… something that runs his spine and pools low in his stomach at Tony’s obvious playful tease.

Tomorrow evening, after Tony has already been gone. He wonders how long it has been since they’ve seen each other in person.

“How long will he be staying?”

“He has a couple weeks before he heads back overseas.”

Long enough that, if all goes to current plan, Tony will be back in time to see his friend before the colonel will have to leave again. That’s good.

“He has a few things to do while here. His younger brother is presenting his master thesis, and Rhodey wanted to take him out for a surprise celebratory spin. We’ll also be attending a dinner with the SecDef and… shit. Damn it.”

Lithe fingers frantically swipe and tap the pad in hand while the genius mumbles about new personal assistants and inadequate scheduling under his breath. Apps open and shut quickly, too fast for Tony to be the only one running the tablet. JARVIS must be helping.

Steve wishes he could, too.

“One step at at time, Tony.”

The loose wave of a trembling hand crops a question up in Steve’s mind.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The shrug and noncommittal reply are more than enough answer.

While Tony deals with whatever scheduling mishap has happened, Steve goes to make them some food. The communal kitchen is conveniently located to the patio. An automatic door connects the areas together, an encouragement to go outside and enjoy refreshing meals while breathing clean air. Or, fresh air, is more appropriate of a descriptor, he thinks.

Having filled a serving platter with mixed vegetables, a few dips, and two bowls filled with the casserole Sam and Thor made for them the night before, Steve makes sure to grab a few bottles of water and some utensils as well before returning. As he’s walking back, he pauses to observe. The evening really is beautiful. The skyline bleeds the reds and purples and blues, marking the sun’s departure for the day. With the city lights dotting the scape, his fingers begin tingling, itching to paint.

A hand settling lightly on his bicep gently pulls him from his artist’s musings. He can feel the weight of Tony’s gaze.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve asks.

“It is.” 

He doesn’t think Tony is talking about the skyline.

“Let me take that.” Hands grasp the edges of the platter, pulling it from his grip. “You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know.” _But, I wanted to_.

Steve watches as Tony sets the table. Despite the often frat house style of living the Avengers find themselves enjoying, Steve has taken notice to the more ingrained habits of his team. When they have the chance to all sit and dine together, Sam always clears and wipes down dining surfaces. Natasha pulls needed plates, utensils, and cups, while also making the pitcher of her shared drink of choice, explaining what it is before anyone (aka Clint) can complain about unknown possibly poisonous substances. Thor stays further back out of the way with Hulk during the set-up. They help with wipe-downs afterwards, to minimize any mishaps. Clint will claim that he bought desert, when in fact he’s actually made something, and doesn’t want anyone to know that he does actually know how to cook, clean, and be a generally decent human being. If Sam hasn’t already taken the dinner ware, Tony will set the table, always very particular in the way it looks. Steve will do dishes afterwards, often with someone else at his side, more often than not lately it has been Sam.

He misses how it used to be Tony.

“I always thought casseroles tasted better the second day than they did the first.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony says as they both sit down together and enjoy. A comfortable silence settles over them, and Steve notes that the longer they eat, the more Tony seems to relax. Yeah, he _definitely_ hasn’t eaten recently. “Thanks. For this. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Anytime.”

By the time they finish, the mood at the table has changed again. That moment of relaxation has ended and Steve can sense that Tony is debating whether or not he should start talking again.

Steve doesn’t know where he went wrong for Tony to feel so hesitant about bringing his concerns to Steve, but, he’ll be damned if he isn’t determined to fix it. Chin tucked, eyes up, he’ll make this right.

“You said you had some data you wanted to show me?”

The way Tony sits-up, back straight, chest out, he’s all business. Avengers business.

“Yes.” Plates pushed aside, folder at front, Tony pulls out multiple sheets of paper. Numbers and graphs cover surface after surface. With these, Avengers’ reports are attached, highlighted and bolded in spots, with notations written off to the side. He hands these papers to Steve, allowing him to peruse before continuing, “Cap. Something’s coming.”

The reports date back all the way to the first encounter with Thor. Since then, the papers mention the Skrull Invasion, which includes key excerpts from Steve’s far longer report. . Then, the Kree. Their first encounter with Kang, and the time displacement. The Guardians, and Galactus’s attempted consumption of Earth.

Steve hadn’t read Tony’s report on experiencing the Power Cosmic.

Looking through what’s available of it now, he wishes he had.

“Ever since Galactus, I’ve been having JARVIS compile and sift through all the reported data we have since we started the Avengers’ Protocol almost four years ago. He’s been analyzing the trends in our super villain population. Since our conception, the number of villains has increased, as have the activities of more established organizations.”

“Like Hydra.”

Tony nods. “Like Hydra.

“Along with our increased contact with Asgard, and some other unknown variables I’ve been unable to pinpoint, we’ve also had an increase in more extraterrestrial threats.”

"Tony, we've known this." They've talked about this countless times before. Steve doesn't understand what has suddenly changed now.

Tony has opened the tablet again. He turns it around and plays a video.

It’s of the recent Galactus event. Played from the view of the Iron Man helmet. From Tony’s view.

Galactus is… big. More than big. Overwhelmingly big. And, Tony starts talking to him. Steve can hear him, his voice, demanding Galactus’s attention. When the light shines and the helmet starts to fritz, he’d thought the recording would close out, but it doesn’t. The fritzing continues and then the teleport happens, and the recording ends.

“Did you see it?” Tony asks.

Steve shakes his head.

“Here,” Tony rewinds the footage. “Jay, start playback at 1:47 at 30fps.”

It’s incredible, honestly. Steve’s eyebrows rise, and he feels like the ground is loose beneath him.

“Is this…”

“Galactus’s voice? Yes. And, no.”

Tony scoots his seat closer to Steve, so that they are shoulder to shoulder.

“This,” he points at a particular line of code, “is the encoded signature of the Power Cosmic.”

Steve reads the line more closely, memorizing the code. It looks familiar somehow. Something he's seen before, somewhere, very recently. Maybe another report, just now? His brows draw closer together, puzzled.

“Looks familiar, right?”

Steve nods, and begins flipping through the reports again. He's looking for one in particular. One about--

“It's this one.” Tony grabs one of the compiled documents. “It's a signal we've been tracking. The Galactus wave, Johnny called it. Awful name, but, it works. But, the more Richards and I looked at it, we found out this particular signal isn't coming from just Galactus.”

He flips the pages. One after another, faster each time. The pages are nothing but the signal. The same code or portions of the same code, over and over and over and over…

“Steve, whatever this is--”

A particular medical report shows up and Steve’s blue eyes shoot up to meet Tony’s terrified brown. 

“--it's getting closer. I don’t know _what_ exactly it is, and--”

The signal is coming from afar…

“-- I don't know what to do.”

… and Tony is a beacon.

The signals are interacting, seeking and responding. Ever since their contact with Galactus, ever since Tony was under the power cosmic, whatever this is, it's started moving faster. It's big, it's powerful, and it's headed to Earth, to the Avengers, to…

“I... feel something. A constantly present itch that can't be scratched. It's here,” shaking fingers graze black curled strands against his own temple, “and it's getting worse.

“I know it makes me sound crazy. Er, crazier than usual. But, Cap, this is-- I don’t think this is something we’ve faced before.”

The signal isn’t just a signal. It’s a power source, or it’s like a power source, as Tony and Reed have explained in the document. It radiates from a point, or a series of points, and these points are coming to their planet.

“You aren’t crazy, Tony.” Steve fingers through the pages again. He pulls the graphs and charts, compares them to the data, and plans. Strategizes. What if this _is_ bigger than they can handle? What if it’s a weapon? Some type of forcefield? Or, what if it isn’t an ‘it’ but rather a ‘they’? What if they’re an army? “We need to grow.”

When he looks up again, caramel-colored eyes shine wet. A single tear has left a path in its wake over a beautifully sculpted cheek, disappeared into the hair of Tony’s Van Dyke. A light flush spreads across those perfect cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Tony’s hand on the table between them twitches. Moving forward only to stop and remain still, muscles working to remain still.

The moment is fraught with an energy that Steve feels but can’t define. Whatever Steve does next will influence every moment, every decision, they make from here on out. After the emotional ride that tonight has been for them, he has a choice to make. Here, right now, he can be Captain America, second-in-command of the Avengers, World War II hero and veteran, living legend and symbol of liberty and justice for all. The “man’s man,” bull-headed and purpose driven. He can be the leader he was made to be…

Or, he can take a chance and be Steve Rogers.

“No, Tony,” his large pale hand reaches out, twining fingers with Tony’s own, “thank you. For… all of this. Everything.” He slowly lifts their hands to his mouth,giving Tony time to pull back if he wants, and chastely presses his lips to dry scars, “Thank you for your honesty, and your hard work. For the things you do to keep us comfortable and safe.” Another press of lips to skin, and the breath that rattles from the other man’s chest stirs the ache within his own. “Thank you.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” Tony whispers through a small forced smile. He squeezes Steve’s hand back lightly, and starts to pull away.

“No,” Steve growls back, slightly tightening his grip, making sure Tony listens and understands. He won’t let Tony do this alone. “ _We_ have a lot of work to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: Leave comments, suggestions, criticisms and critiques in the comments below. General rule of thumb: An encouraging critiquing statement for every two criticisms. We can't build people up if all we do is tear them down.
> 
> Thank you, again. :)


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